Brick woke up with a pain in his neck. It was unusual... [i]pain[/i]. He really hadn't felt it much since since his transformation. He hadn't felt like this since he'd puled his neck muscles during a particularly strange and intense workout. But that was back when he was still trying to get stronger. That was before he could take bullets to the chest without so much as a scratch, before he could bench press a semi truck. That was when he was Bryce.

The pain brought him back for a moment, the black-haired boy with the crooked smile. That kid had been so weak, so dumb. Brick definitely wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box,  but Bryce had been downright stupid. He had always thought, somewhere in the back of his tiny skull, that people could be good. He'd wanted those bullies to accept him. Yes, Brick remembered the bullies. Evil children with their cruel laughter. They hated him for no reason at all. And he hated them. Fire burned in his stomach, drowning out his neck pain. Bryce was afraid of them, but he was not. Not anymore.

[color=a36209]"Bryce gone!"[/color] He grunted aloud. [color=a36209]"Brick here!"[/color]

He tried to picture their faces, to make himself more angry, but the images would not come. They were simply fragments, burried pieces of a shattered mind. He couldn't see them anymore. He couldn't remember their names. But he knew he would find them again. The black-haired boy... what was his name? He'd said it only moments before. Oh well, it wasn't worth remembering. He'd face it again, he knew, the next time he looked in a mirror. He'd know the weakling's name then. He saw it in his own face. And then he'd forget.

[color=a36209]"Brick here!"[/color]

He spoke again, this time with angry determination. Where was "here" anyway? The room was dark. Where had he been before here? He couldn't remember. That wasn't really a suprise, considering his short-term memory only usually lasted about an hour. Happy... he thought. Before the pain, he'd been happy. So he was probably hitting something. Yes, Brick loved hitting things! That was as far as his train of thought would go before being completely derailed. Now all he could think about was hitting things. Massive arms flailed in the darkness, smashing into the concrete floor, the walls, and what felt like a table. Brick had broken many tables...

[color=a36209]"Brick here! Brick here!"[/color] He started chanting in a low voice. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he was pretty sure he'd said it recently. There was no pain anymore. He laughed, arms still flailing. [color=a36209]"Brick here!"[/color]

[color=ed145b]"They ain't callin' attendence, moron!"[/color] A voice interupted his chanting. It was a puny voice, male fro the sound of it. Brick looked around, franically trying to identify the speaker, but he still couldn't see in the dark. He swung his arms along the ground now, trying to smash whatever was talking. Annoying voice, he thought. Smash the annoying voice. But he could feel nothing. Finally, he decided just to talk to it. Maybe the voice could make the dark go away.

[color=a36209]"Not moron,"[/color] he corrected it. [color=a36209]"Brick!"[/color]

The voice scoffed [color=ed145b]"Yeah, I got that part. Don't suppose you'd know why they brought us here?"[/color]

Brick grunted, confused.

[color=ed145b]"Yeah, didn't think so. What the hell kinda transport was that anyway?"[/color]

Suddenly, the lights switched on. [color=39b54a]"Apologies for the lack of accommodations,"[/color] yet another voice broke through. [color=39b54a]"Welcome to the Outcasts."[/color]